Emberstorm
by Chustang
Summary: An Arcanine is betrayed by her master after losing the Championship, and must recover from her son's death. She is rescues the person she lost to and has to defeat her cruel master.
1. Blood Flames

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon or that stuff, so you guys can't sue me… I hope… 

Author's note: This is a first for me. I rarely write vignettes, action's more my style. So no matter how bad it may seem, remember, this is probably my worst. ^_^ I named the story after my Arcanine, named (duh!) Emberstorm. She's my strongest Pokemon (so far, lv. 89) and I thought why not a fanfic dedicated to her? I also saw Gary's Arcanine, and thought it looked more like a slave than a friend. I also hate Gary, so guess why…   
Send comments to chustang@fcmail.com 

******************   
Emberstorm   
by Chustang 

  
Chapter 1   
"Blood Flames" 

Darkness. Sweet darkness.   
In the flames of pursuit, the hideout of darkness was its own utopia. Only a few, flamed sunbeams dared to enter through the slitted board overhanging the burrow. And, highlighted in the light, was a shuddering ghost of anguish. The Arcanine sickly let her limp tongue lay out of her jaws and her eyes were foaming with blood. Scars lay, bleeding, around its neck like cruel jewelry from the punishing hand of her master. Why they were there, she did not know. She had done everything her master asked. She had tried to win against his rival, and he knew deep in his heart that she truly tried, she truly did. But the Pikachu's Thunder had proved more potent that her refined liquid grace, and her master's heart proved twisted and cold.   
The Pikachu had, after promptly dispatching her, been greeted with love and joy from his master. The dark haired rival caught him in mid jump and lavished him with overjoyed screams and hugs, and the Pikachu, although jaded, gave his trainer a victorious Thundershock, which his master almost enjoyed. They raised their fists to the sky, and the roar of the crowd hailed the crowning champs.   
But as she had turned to her master for his affection, his usual good spirited smiles and strokes, the Evil was waiting. The Evil that all Pokemon hated and feared. The Evil that changed their trainers into hating, flame-eyed monsters that knew only anger that only pursued to draw blood and inflict pain, the Evil that made her Trainer stab his fingers into her throat, with a deadly chokehold, drag her into the forest, and beat her. He punched her, slashed her throat, and destroyed her dreams and spirit. But the worst punishment was that she could see that there had never been any real love, and she had been just a pawn of destruction. There was no love for her in his eyes. Even though the Arcanine was exhausted and fading back and forth from blackness, she had twisted violently from his grasp, lashing fangs at his exposed flesh.   
With a furious screech, the boy had clutched his mauled hand, blood leaking from between his fingers. Yet, despite the pain, he had managed to wrench a Poke Ball from his pocket, smearing blood over his jeans, and fling it at her. He was a death monster, made of flame and hate. The orb had split with a crack of angry energy that cascaded out and formed into the towering figure of a Gyarados. It had paused as it saw her, but lunged loyally forward as its master commanded it to attack with Bite.   
And that's the way the onslaught had ensued, brutal and swift. There was no mercy on either creature; once the Arcanine realized the lie she had believed, she had attacked viciously. Claws on fangs, strength on strength, teammate against teammate.   
She had finally yielded, after fainting every Pokemon until his Nidoqueen had been injured, and fled.   
In the burrow's protective darkness, a pitiful whine emitted from beside her. The danger was even greater now that she had rescued her newly hatched pup. The cute, trembling Growlithe leaned against her side, his panicked blue eyes shining in the dawning sunlight. Suddenly, they froze, ears pricked alertly. In the distance, the sinister echoes of footsteps neared and fury bubbled dangerously in the mother Pokemon, herding her pup toward the back wall of dirt. Although tired, she lashed out her claws, curled them back, and flung a pile of soil back behind her. She made progress quickly, and the curious puppy joined in, imitating the Arcanine. As she drove further into the earth, the blood around her eyes stung like demons and her body screamed from the strain. Her heart thundered for mercy, a ticking clock that counted the seconds 'til the Evil pursued.   
About ten feet into the constructed tunnel, the bloody Pokemon gathered the earth and packed it into a barricade to seal the tunnel. Then she turned to nuzzle her dirt-smudged offspring, and it yipped softly and nuzzled in returned. The two waited in silence, shivering against each other, one in wrath, the other in fear.   
But it was shattered. A low, ominous hiss tempted them to fear as it continued to waver through the tunnel. It was drawing closer.   
The Arcanine tensed, and the infant Growlithe let out a low, pleading whine.   
Suddenly, the tunnel exploded in flying dirt and rabid screeches and hisses. A venomous head of fangs and violet fury shot through the dust, aiming for the injured Pokemon's throat. The Arbok, cape of black and red storm-swirls flared, hit dirt as the Arcanine deftly took the puppy in her mouth, leaped away like lightning, then shot upward, digging furiously. She scraped and strained to cling to the ceiling, but managed to dig a narrow escape route and soon broke the surface. As she hit the ground, legs braced, the cobra mimicked her move, angrily pursuing. Its sinewy body took the impact, and its eyes were slits of narrow black danger.   
Her master, who was highlighted in blood red sunlight against the east, let a low command carry to his Pokemon's ears. "Well, how sweet. A mother and child." His cold eyes were aflame. "Why didn't you win!! You are my Pokemon, you listen, and you win!!! No matter what! Now you have run away from me when I told you, I TOLD YOU, TO STAY!" He seemed to regain his composure. "ARBOK. Kill."   
The snake snapped to life at the command, and bared fangs pulsing with deadly toxin. With its cape spread, it was like living nightmare descending. The Arcanine herded her beloved son behind her and she leapt up to meet the assault. Fury collided with fury and the flashes of color separated and landed before the dog/tiger unleashed a thick flame upon her foe. It shrugged it off with a flurry of Pin Missiles, which dissipated the flames.   
She danced around her foe in a furious circle, trying to confuse Arbok. Yet the subservient hit man was a solid as rock and suddenly disappeared from the circle. The Arcanine halted puzzled but soon let out a scream of rage only a volcano could match.   
The serpent stalked her offspring, eyes dark, and it flashed a dangerous, laughing glance at her. She ignored it and raced for her son. She must save him! If the Evil wanted a life, her son would not be the one to die. Why not the cruel master who killed? Why not the criminal? Why did death always spare the Evil and persecute the innocent?   
Why was it the truth?   
Suddenly, the Arbok leaned over her puppy who was frozen in terror, and she froze as well. The snake's eyes sparked a warning: One step and her son was his rag doll.   
Time froze in the suspense. Arbok hovered over the hostage. Arcanine stared with eyes of fire. Master watched with coldness. Arbok smirked and began to close its jaws. Arcanine began to leap in wrath. Master's vengeance was filled.   
"Gary!"   
Everyone froze and turned to spot a human, about her master's age walking forward from the glare of the sun. As he approached, she saw the rival's burning anger.   
"What the heck are you doing, Gary! Leave that Arcanine alone! It isn't its fault it lost. It tried to win." He walked up to Gary, clenching a Poke Ball and continuing to pound down on his rival.   
"SHUT UP!" All of Gary's composure erupted into blood flames. He suddenly raised a punch to the dark-haired rival. Blood and groans ensued as the punch landed in his rival's throat, and he gave him a sharp kick to the chest, which sent him flying into the nearest object. The boy's body bounced off the rock, unconscious, before he fell to ground.   
Arcanine let loose a howl as she turned her eyes.   
The pup laid dead, its head severed.   
And the whole time, its eyes cried silently for mommy.   
She flung her song of dejection and cruel destiny to the blood red sky, and the tears streaked blood trails down her face. As she faded her song, all hell burned in her body. The Arbok was dead, sliced and mauled to bits, before it took a breath. Blood lay, a sick reminder of the wrath of love and hate over the entire road. And the Pokemon, stood defiant against her demons.   
He killed her son. He shattered her dreams. He hated her.   
And she hated him.   
As she flung herself upon him, a searing pain erupted in her shoulder. It threw her ten feet, stopping next to the groaning body of the rival. The human was drenched in his own blood and his head lolled limply as his body shuddered. She lingered only on him for a second, possibly seeing her future, and saw Gary, the Evil in her life, the monster, brandishing a gun. It clicked lethally. The barrel was leveled, point-blank, at her head.   
"Die."   
The Arcanine flickered her glance, knowing she had time to escape. She could rescue her son's body, yet she saw the human drifting toward his death. She saw the life drain from his body and gleam crimson in the light around him. And she knew, that her son was gone finally. Never again to yip and nuzzle. Never again to breath. Never again to live.   
So, she flung the human over her back and fled.   
And in the blood flames of the cruel dawn, she heard the whimpers of her dead son echoing for all eternity in everlasting death.   
  
  



	2. Fading

Author's Note: Well, I finally decided to finish Emberstorm. The first part was dark and bloody I know, but I try to write as realistic as possible. The world isn't that forgiving as "happily ever after." This won't be as dark though, and only a page long. This is kind of an intermission thing, just a little tidbit. Update on Emberstorm: She is now at level 95 (Yes!) and well, she's still my strongest Pokemon. I still hate Gary.   
(new email) chustang@nativestar.net 

******************   
Emberstorm   
by Chustang   


Chapter 2   
"Fading" 

Light. Truthful light.   
She didn't want the light.   
Light made her see the way her life now had been shredded to nothing, her dreams just a fractured mirror, the reflection the sole reality. Dreams. She could hardly remember. Did she ever have them? Yes, she did. But they faced their mortality in blood flames, and had become fading, echoing memories.   
Tears sifted through her ragged, bloody fur, and the Arcanine seemed to flinch at the light they contained. Her black, now soul-deprived eyes dimly opened, dreading the light. 

* * * * *

  


Ash woke painfully.   
Pain.   
The first emotion was undying, throbbing pain.   
The second, light. It seared his eyes, like a scolding torch of truth. Flinching, he sealed them tighter and tried just to breathe. Blood burned in his throat as well, and they came out in long, agonizing wheezes. Why was he hurt? Nothing seemed to exist in his dark, light-seared world without burning. No memories yet, he thought dizzily. Can't think…. straight…   
Voices, too far away to make sense, too dim to wake him from this horrific nightmare.   


A sigh, but slight hope. "Considering the danger he was in, he's pretty lucky. He'll live. But much recuperation will be needed and lots of home rest. No more traveling for about a month."   
Tears of happiness, but bitten lips in tension. "Doctor, is he going to be…okay?"   
"He'll be able to talk and think normally, if that's what you're asking. But, his spine might be too damaged to walk again."   
A slight, sharp intake of breath, a restrained sob.   
Softer, deeper voice of compassion. "Don't worry Misty, Ash'll be okay. You know him, he'd never give up."   
Tears betrayed the nod, and her lips tightened up. Misty leaned against Brock, crying softly, and like a good brother, he comforted her. "All he needs is time and faith from us."   
A slight hum of reassurance from the doctor. "But, the Arcanine that saved him doesn't seem to be recuperating quite as well as him mentally."   
Brock, his arm still around the troubled Misty, turned his gaze toward the young doctor. His eyes were solemn again, and he asked, "Will it be okay too?"   
"If God's willing. Only if God's willing."   
  



	3. Rekindling the Fire

Authors Note: Emberstorm's at level 100!! Yahoo! 

******************   
Emberstorm   
by Chustang   


Chapter 3   
"Rekindling the Fire" 

Warmth. Soothing warmth.   
Darkness cringed defiantly in his mind, still lurking with its cruel talons, still hunting for his weakness. Yet it lived on his warmth, and breathed immortally. Ash knew   
nothing except for the malice of the dark… the Evil of hate. But when the warmth   
touched his cheek, it only withdrew to the back of his mind to brood its return. It would   
never die. It would never go away, he knew that. His memories, as faded and smeared as   
they were, still lived on and the Evil could always hid in them.   
A voice. Faded.   
Another. Calling.   
Soft caresses of fur, and the nip of sparks.   
What were they? He couldn't remember…too painful… Cringing, he just wished   
that this would all be over.   
"Ash?"   
The voice again, soft and beckoning. He wanted to come, but it was too hard just   
to breathe. Blood boiled in his throat with every labored breath, and he suddenly felt his   
chest sharply contract, causing him to cough again. It felt like his whole body just   
shuddered from the pain. But he finally managed to crack open an eye.   
"Pika Pi?" Saffron fur framed those loving black, marble eyes, and the tiny button nose gently nudged his cheek. Even the love from his Pokemon hurt. "Pika!" it   
exclaimed softly, curling up against his cheek.   
"Brock, he's awake!"   
"Ummnh…" he groaned painfully. Light flooded his eyes, as sharp as a razor. The pain again as he slightly rolled his head. A fresh stream of blood trickled down his face, burning painfully against his skin. Who… Brock?   
Suddenly, the light dimmed and his emotional, tear-filled eyes finally opened without stinging bitterly. He could see again. Over him, he could see a vaguely familiar face   
framed in bright red hair. "Ash?" she asked. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?"   
"Mmmisty?" He sealed his eyes just trying to remember again. Ash raised his   
hand, aching from the slight movement, and he felt Misty gently grasp it.   
"Just rest, you need to rest."   
Dizzy. Can't think. Another sharp pain.   
"Arcanine…. is okay?"   
"We don't know," Brock said, sitting down beside the table. He could hear his   
heavy-hearted sigh. "She doesn't seem to want to live. She definitely can, but its like she just gave up on herself. It's really sad."   
Suddenly, a thought came to mind. Maybe if he could just tell them, it might help her. But his voice cracked, and only his lips moved, barely making a slight whisper.   
"Ash? What are you trying to say?" Misty asked.   
He tried again. "She….needsss…a ..n-name…to know… she's loved."   
"Gary just called her Arcanine. And probably some other names, not so pleasant   
ones, so I see what you mean," Brock agreed softly.   
"But what could we call her?" Misty said.   
"Emberstorm."   
* * * * *   
  
  
His fingers, although shivering from the cold of steel that stirred the wrath of the Evil, brushed against the wheel he had grown accustomed to. The cold. Again. He   
shuddered involuntarily. Again, the bitter memories stirred in his anguished, tired amber-brown eyes, and the sting of tears reminded him. He'd never escape. The Evil, with its   
dark roots scarred in his mind, was a permanent ghost that would thrive in him as long as he knew, as long as he remembered.   
Ash sighed, sagging his punished body against the wheelchair back, and he rested his head. His long black hair swayed over his eyes as they locked in their usual glazed   
gaze at the ceiling, and the gentle brush of the locks lulled him into a state of thought.   
The boy knew only pain for the last few weeks, and the restrains that allowed him to heal. God, he thought to himself, my life… is ruined.   
The doctor's cruel and punishing words, although spoken like a soft wind, had   
punched brutally in his reality. He was a cripple. Forced to live in his wheelchair, his   
improvised legs. He winced at the thought that was immortally tied to his reality. Without working legs, he'd have to choose. Risk killing himself Pokemon training in a   
wheelchair, or live out his life at home, but surround by his friends. Brock and Misty…. Well, they remained his true and loyal friends, even to the end. They each promised to   
stay in Pallet or the hospital with him and train Pokemon a little at home, even though it might be impossible to be in a league anymore.   
Ash sighed again, his throat rattling painfully from the memories. Damn. Before, he'd never cursed. But the situation he was in seemed appropriate for him to drop the   
innocence. He'd been doing it since he'd been announced crippled and cursed to live in   
punishment. Misty and Brock had been shocked at first, but his morning cusses became a ritual, just to shun his destiny. Even though he knew swearing would never restore his   
freedom.   
"I just don't understand, Pikachu," he whispered, exhausted, to Pikachu. The   
Pokemon sat curled, asleep, in Ash's lap. Thank God for Pikachu. That mouse had been   
the best support and therapy. "I was only trying to help Gary. I was only trying to show   
him out of the dark. But…" His face twisted up at the thought and painful memory   
flashes of Gary, his former best friend, smashing and crippling him. He sighed. It was no use.   
Ash lifted his head, just to look on through the glass window. Just a few feet   
away, the limp body of the Arcanine lay on a stretcher. The beautiful creature now only   
could be seen as a beaten doll. Her throat was scarred and shaved from cleaning   
infections and stitching. Emberstorm was on her side, and her long, wild-cut tufts of tan   
fur had long lost their healthy shine. Through the dark red, tiger-banded fur that was   
blackened around her eyes and face from blood and dirt, her eyes lay sealed in pain.   
He felt sorry, as he settled on her. There were tubes and wires connected to her   
everywhere, and the life-support was the single thing that preserved her. Of course, she   
could heal on her own. But, for some reason, she had given up on herself. Ash sighed. No one else had seen what really happened out in the woods, so how could they realize she   
didn't want to live without her puppy.   
Damn it.   
Anguished eyes flaring with angry desolation, he pounded on the glass with one   
fist. He narrowed his eyes, and they began to roll off the familiar tears of pain. Pikachu,   
at the pound, jolted awake. The mouse Pokemon glanced around in surprise for a   
moment, but as its marble-black eyes rested on Ash's twisted face as he leaned on the   
glass, he frowned. It knew he was being overcome by his depression, and not even   
Pokemon training would get rid of it. Pikachu softly whispered, "Pikapi, Pikachu…" and climbed up to perch on his shoulder.   
Ash just sighed, chest rattling, and his eyes just stared into Emberstorm's room.   
He seemed so sunk and isolated in depressed thought that he didn't even acknowledge   
th door clicking to the hallway he was stopped in, as Misty peeked her head in. Her eyes,   
at first were filled with her usual bright energy, but instantly darkened with pity. Ash wasdoing it again. He was getting depressed.   
Misty tried to shake it off, walking over to him. "Hi Ash. Want to go out to the   
lake for a while? I think the doctor might let you go swimming with me and Brock now." Her hand rested on his shoulder, and she realized, with a shock, how cold his shoulder   
felt. Was it a sign?   
Ash ignored her.   
Her lips twisted downward in a frown. "Ash?"   
No reply.   
Misty felt her heart shatter at his silence. Damn it Ash, don't do this! She thought to herself, her face twisting again. The girl kneeled down to come to eye level with him,   
but he continued to stare listlessly in the window. His eyes darted, painfully inspecting   
his reflection, and, as if disgusted, shut tightly. "Ash," Misty said softly, but firmly.   
"Please listen to me. I know you feel depressed and like your life is ruined, but just forget all that. You can still Pokemon train, and you still have Brock, Pikachu, your mom, and me here for you. All your Pokemon love you no matter what happens to you, and…and.."   
Her voice trailed off, her azure eyes narrowed in confusion and anguish. Her   
orange-red hair brushed in front of her eyes as she just quit. He'd been like this for   
weeks. Although, lately, he'd been more responsive to them and even been playing a few games of catch with Pikachu and Brock.   
"Just forget it," she angrily hissed to herself. As she stood up to leave, her hand   
still on his shoulder, he suddenly leaned on her hand. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and just rested his cheek against her hand. Misty was surprised; it was one of the first times   
he'd acknowledged her after he'd been announced crippled. But she could understand.   
She let him fall asleep against her palm, and pulled up a chair to sit next to him while he   
slept.   
Damn it anyway. 

Pikachu, cheeks sparking, leaped forward. Its body blurred with impossible speed, as the creature screamed a challenge to heed. The Pokemon crashed fully in a furious   
head butt into its target, before agilely slamming its paws into its body and leaping back   
to attack again. Agility was crucial in this match, because no attacks were working. Eyes narrowed, Ash could see the opponent was totally unaffected. The steely blue Nidorina   
towered, her short but venomous spikes bristling, over Pikachu. Jagged scales framed theblood red eyes she possessed, and she barely felt the head butt. With one, feral hiss, she   
lunged forward in a counter head butt and the spikes pricked toward his Pokemon.   
Ash stood, watching the battle with fear, and his eyes widened with shock.   
"Pikachu!" He knew Pikachu would get hit.   
And it did. The poor creature, pricked by the spines, instantly was injected with   
poison. The Nidorina didn't stop though. Her body continued to smash into Pikachu, and once she lost enough momentum to stop, the force sent Pikachu tumbling.   
Ash screamed in fear, because, somehow, Pikachu was rolling toward the lip of a cliff. He couldn't let this happen. He began to run, his wheelchair nowhere in sight, and   
raced after Pikachu.   
Not again, please.   
Instantly, his legs buckled beneath his weight, numb and limp. First, his knees   
crashed to the ground, but even the weight on his useless knees was too much. Ash   
tumbled to his face, body sprawled out. He lifted his face to look up. And again, he   
watched Pikachu slowly tumble over the edge…   
"Pikachu!"   
Ash bolted up in bed, his chest thundering wildly to the harsh, winded rush of his breathing. Darkness pressed in from all sides. He looked wildly around but calmed   
slightly when he realized: it just had been another dream. The same one that haunted him.It punched in the fact that he would never walk again, and if Pikachu ever needed him… He hung his head, face burning from oncoming tears and sweat. If Pikachu ever needed   
him, he'd have to watch.   
Ash felt the cool sheets of the hospital bed, and the small, dim electric glow from out in the other room. Ever since he'd been announced crippled, the doctors agreed to   
give him a small, two room house attached to the hospital to live until he recovered. The other room, besides the bedroom, contained a TV, computer/phone, and one large, worn   
couch. Through the small crack of the door separating the rooms, he could hear the TV's low murmur and glow. It was probably Misty or Brock. His hand crept down to the foot   
of the bed, trying not to use his limp legs to stretch, and brushed Pikachu's silky, gently   
rising and falling form. Good. It was a dream.   
He decided to see who it was. He wasn't going to sleep now; he'd never been able to fall asleep after completely waking up, especially after nightmares. He was afraid he'd have another one to haunt his conscious, mocking him of his fate. Ash deftly slid his   
immobile lower half over to the side of the bed, where he'd parked his wheelchair.   
Reaching out in the dark, he could barely see the arms from the TV's dim illumination   
but managed to get a hold and slowly lower himself into it. Once seated, his arms   
carefully rolled the steel wheels, manovering with slight twists and thrusts of his hands.   
Ash pulled back the door more, and dimly colored, muted glow of the TV lit the   
spacious room. Its faded color lit up Misty's face, as she lifted her head from the couch   
arm. Her blue eyes, darkened by sleepless bags beneath them, were wide in surprise. Her lips were mutely forming words that died and fell away, as she sat up. Around her   
thinned frame, she had a light blanket. "Ash!" she whispered. "What are you doing up?   
Oh, I'm sorry. Did I wake you up?"   
He smiled slightly, a thing he'd hadn't done for weeks. Ash was surprised at his   
own reaction as well. Perhaps he was softening. Or maybe he it was 'cuz he felt... almost soothed when he was with Misty. "No, not at all. It was just..." he cast his light brown   
eyes downward in shame. "Just a nightmare, again. Nothing to worry about though."   
Misty just sighed, her loose hair cascading about her shoulders. Her eyes, tired   
beyond years, searched his also tired face, one she had seen laughing, smiling. It held   
nothing but resentment, fear, and pain, now. She began to trace her gaze along his   
childish face again, like she had in the past, but only behind his back. He'd never been   
looking at her as she did. The unruly, bed-snarled black hair framed his slightly   
tanned, unscathed face. The strands fell limply over his face, slightly concealing his light   
filled, innocent eyes. Also highlighted against two dark, smeared scars, his eyes slightly   
narrowed in anguish. Tears flowed from them freely now, as they locked with hers.   
Misty stood up in alarm, taking her blanket from the couch as she did. "Ash?   
What's the matter?"   
He just continued to silently cry, hanging his head. Ash painfully held his head in his hands, and the tears dripped across his fingers. She bit her lip, quickly walking across the room. Misty laid the blanket across his lap, and gently brushed her fingers against his cheek. "Oh Ash, please stop crying. It hurts me when you do," she softly pleaded,   
clutching his cold hands.   
He looked up slightly, but his eyes were dead with depression again. "Misty, does it matter anymore?" His voice was angry at his twisted fate, and he seemed to churn over and over in his mind.   
"What does?"   
"All this." He sighed. "Misty, try to understand. You can leave at anytime to   
fullfill your dreams, along with Brock. Hell, Pikachu could still be the strongest in the   
universe without me. I don't have my dream to live anymore." Tears formed again, as she kneeled before him. "I can't be a master. Not as a.... cripple. I'll never make it out there, Misty. I'm damned to live like a helpless baby for the rest of my life."   
"Dont say that!" she said fiercely, determined to erase his depression. "The   
doctors say you still can walk. You just need to work and give yourself time."   
He looked up at her, and his eyes were almost angry. "Forget it Misty. Its been a whole month. You know as well as me I'll never walk again." His face twisted painfully.   
"They just lie to make you and Brock feel better." Ash then turned away, pushing the   
wheels to go. He only glanced back before disappearing back into his room.   
Misty had apparently developed her temper again. She tightened her lips against   
her teeth, and they gritted angrily. Did he have to be that way? He never gave up before,   
so why now? Angrily snapping off the TV, she stood up, pulled her jacket on, and   
stormed out the door. She'd show Ash not to give up. 

Misty sauntered through the dark hospital, with only the soft illumination from   
the occasional light. The sleep-dreprived girl tightened a jacket around her shoulders,   
which shivered uncontrollably. Her soft footsteps echoed eerily through the halls, as she headed toward the very familar Pokemon room. As she turned down the hall, toward   
Emberstorm's room, a chill sparked up her spine.   
Stepping lightly in front of the window, she could define the Arcanine's raggedly breathing shape against a distant light in the back. Misty gently placed a hand against the glass and stared deeply at the Pokemon. It was just condemning itself to a miserable life; it wouldn't even try to deny its fate and overcome its problem.   
Just like Ash.   
Suddenly, the night began to catch up with her. Her azure fluttered tiredly, and,   
too drowsy to resist, slumped to the floor, asleep. And Misty began to dream.   
  
She awoke with a start, her azure eyes flashing open to meet the hospital celing.   
It dawned on her. And in a swift heartbeat, Misty Waterflower had the answer.   



End file.
